‘To be or not to be,’

To bugs, that’s not even a question.

Imperatively, ‘to be’ comes with consequences:

Of the greatest, frantic’s fate is in green plastic

Called slapstick, death in split second.

‘To be or not to be,’

To ants, that’s not even a question.

They’re too busy; They cannot be questioned.

So unaware they face destiny:

Always genocide, ever extermination.

‘To be or not to be,’

To flies, that’s not even a question.

They hover and hover faithfully–

Sadly, that hovering leads to notion:

‘Stink, dirty, bad’ says very judgmental nation.

‘To be or not to be,’

To mice, that’s not even a question.

‘To be’ face deadly, bloody, tragic fate in notorious traps and poisons.

Yet they’re quiet, quick subservient.

Sewers are their homes sweet homes.

Man is always a scared man. Prejudice is his terminal disease. May God heal the fearful land!